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We are waiting wing close; I wallpaper all the windows 
of spaces between the thoughts of you with the times of you: 

It’s all tree stems and red clay and the union
of the leafside darkness and shadow.

I never thought about the shadows until now
I am thinking. 

Dandelion houseboat sway and homestead honey
at the turn of a mountain before more road. 

More, where are you? 

[image: Anne Brooke]